


Of Blood

by tirsynni



Category: Dexter (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 07:31:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7926022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tirsynni/pseuds/tirsynni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>None of this was what Harry wanted or what Dexter had planned. This went beyond all of that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Blood

Dexter heard the door open. It was barely a breath of sound, but he had been waiting for it. Waiting ever since he sat in his bedroom, felt those eyes on him. Those eyes had a physical weight when Dexter patted the lump on the bed and stood, when he walked out of the room and away from the bedroom window.

Throughout the years, he recognized the eyes of so many killers. How odd that the one pair he missed belonged to Bynie. Maybe that was why. With every other pair, there was something cold, calculating, a monster looking out through human eyes.

Bynie’s eyes were always warm when they looked at him. Warmer than Deb’s. Without the darkness that was in Harry’s eyes.

Such warmth from a man called the Ice Truck Killer. Emotions were confusing things, but this went beyond that. It more than baffled Dexter. He felt…

He felt _unmade_ from it.

Nothing about this fit the path Harry helped him create. The script he told his coworkers and Deb before launching everyone on a wild goose chase fit what Harry had taught him about his mission and rules. This went beyond all of that.

Dexter felt more than heard Bynie approach him on the couch. He knew Bynie was around, but he wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t the target for Bynie tonight.

He focused on appearing asleep. His entire life was an act, a human mask he put on every day, as much a part of his routine as brushing his teeth. Yet this time, the mask, the act, was hard. His blood pumped swift and hot through his veins, his heart pounding like he was the one with the knife in his hand. He was growing hard, which was disturbing and rare.

His brother didn’t seem to notice his too human body. Dexter felt those eyes sweep over him again – what did he see? – and then Bynie walked away. He knew where. The bedroom, the bed. Dexter breathed several more deep breaths, and then he stood up to follow.

Dexter knew what his brother would see, there in the darkened bedroom: the sheets, white and still, sloping up and falling down over the quiet lump like a frozen wave, the dark spill of hair over a pale pillow. Did Bynie think of Dexter there? Of all the nights Dexter slept there, oblivious and vulnerable, his DNA in the sheets and pillows?

Dexter stood in the shadows of the doorway and watched Bynie raised the blade. He swung it down –

Dexter looked away, but he still heard the meaty thunk of the blade when it hit Deb’s body. He flinched and the heat from before vanished, leaving him ice cold. He didn’t realize he had covered his ears until Bynie – Brian – was there, tenderly pulling his hands down.

“It’s over now, Dexter,” he crooned. Dexter couldn’t see any blood on his brother, but he smelled it with his quick, involuntary inhale. It was a little funny, that dark corner of his mind noted. It was the same part that pointed out how easily he could have killed Paul and how no one would have cared. How easily he could have taken care of so many problems, really. Now that dark corner pointed out that Deb’s blood, his dear Deb’s blood, smelled no differently than anyone else’s.

Brian pulled Dexter into his arms. All Dexter could smell was the rich scent of blood. It was… He searched for a word. Terrifying? Invigorating?

It was like being born again.

Dexter’s own arms were slow to rise, but when they wrapped around his brother, they held on tightly. He felt the rumble of his brother’s chest, his brother’s breath against his air, and the strength of his brother’s arms. When Dexter hugged Brian, his brother’s arms tightened almost painfully. How many people had that strength help kill? The thought brought some warmth back to his limbs.

“I’m sorry, dear Dexter,” Brian murmured. “I was rushing too much. Of course you weren’t ready for that step. My plans were…but that doesn’t matter now. We’re ready to move on now.”

Dexter shuddered. In the next room, Deb was dead. His adoptive sister, Harry’s daughter, was dead. But if she hadn’t died, he would have forever been trapped in Harry’s cage. Dexter realized that now. Harry had betrayed him. Harry lied to him. Harry told him there was only one path. Deb…she never would have understood. She would have enforced Harry’s cage.

It was time to be free.

It wasn’t until Brian pulled back that Dexter realized he was shaking. Adrenaline? Confusion? Exhaustion? He wanted to analyze it and pinpoint why. Until everything started with his brother, he never had problems like this. He didn’t like it.

Raising his hand to touch Dexter’s face, Brian smiled at him. Dexter smelled blood on his brother’s fingers. “My dear Dexter,” Brian breathed and leaned forward.

His mouth tasted like menthol. It was nothing like kissing Rita. This was not what Harry would like. Incest was not blending in. Incest was not normal.

But it was always the thrill of Brian, whether he knew it or not, which had heated Dexter’s blood before. He kissed back and it was easy. So damned easy, like no one before, and he wrapped his arms tighter around Brian before he realized it. Kissing harder and then he tasted it, the faint bite of blood from his busted lip, maybe from his own fight with Dexter…

Dexter groaned. He felt Brian smile against his mouth. “See, Brother? See how free you can be here with me?” His breath tasted cool and sharp against Dexter’s mouth. “No more of their rules or bars. We will be free.”

Free… Dexter lunged forward and kissed harder and there was definite blood that time, the split lip reopening for blood to pour into their kiss. No more of Harry’s rules. None of the Code by which he had lived for so many years.

It was dizzying.

Brian pulled away. His mouth was red, wet. Swollen. Dexter stared in fascination.

“Come,” Brian breathed, the scent of copper between them. So sweet. “Let’s go.”

Debra’s body was still in the next room. Her time of death was approximately five minutes ago. Dexter guessed that Brian’s strike had been through her heart: an immediate kill. Painless. Her body would be completely relaxed, growing cold. In her own way, Deb was free now, too.

Dexter had no idea how to be free, but it would be fine. He had time to learn.

Brian kissed him one more time before letting him go. He kept one hand entangled in Dexter’s, like he was afraid of his little brother slipping away. That was fine. It had taken Dexter years, but he understood loneliness and being alone.

Together, the two monsters walked into the dark to play some more.


End file.
